My father's childhood - A story

Ok .... another of my Father's stories which I call "My Father's Hands"

He had run that race in his mind and on the track countless number of times but Faizal always managed to inch past him in the final moments ... chest puffed right out to hit the invisible line when it mattered.

It was the same for the 100m, the 200m, the 300m ... same for the baton relay, and the long jump ... always always second .. but this time it was different ... his father was sponsoring the cup ... and would be there to present it to the winner ...

He can't remember being unduly inspired .. he barely knew his dad .. apart from the fact that he was the one who barked out orders and made the orderlies tremble ... the one you tiptoed round the creaking wooden floors of the shophouse in the afternoon so as not to disturb his afternoon siesta ... the one he would in later life confess his religion to only to be banished out of home and country ... but for now ... the only connection was a surname and a slight family resemblance ...

But whether the gods had chained the fates to their whim and blown fortune towards this little malay schoolboy in the cotton shorts with the drawstring sewn by his mother's obligingly worn hands we will never trully know ... but the fact remains that on this one special day, my dad tasted the winner's victory for the first time and probably the last time in his life ...

When it came to prize-giving, his name sounded decidedly odd coming out of the principle's mouth over the PA ... a sound rarely heard ... the construct of vowels and consonants like a virginal hymn out of the dulcet chords of a pre-pubescent choirboy ... he walked up hot and nervous onto the dais ... all the time his mind focused on the cup and the congratulatory pats from team mates later on ... grasping the cup in both hands felt like conquering the world ...

Then his father grabbed his face in his hands and expressed his pride in a gentle squeeze ...

My father wondered at how smooth his hands were ...

He would recall this years later standing in front of the shophouse door as it slams in admonishment.

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Comments:

Temasek wrote:


Thank you!! I didn't have to try too hard ... his story really did touch me. If I had a tape recorder then, I would have just transcibed what he said .. it was perfect.
13 Oct
 
Phoenix wrote:


This is really good.
8 Oct